


Never and Always

by Ulan



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Pining, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: When one has one lover after another but still ends up in the same place, looking at the same person, one should have been able to get the clue. Unfortunately for Glorfindel, it seems that his time has run out. It was optimistic of him to think that they would always get back together, and he realises this finally when Erestor has decided to move on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story is "It's Always You" by Kris Allen. It gave me the first scene and the story worked itself out from there. 
> 
> I have been pushing for this to be a one-shot for a while now, but it doesn't seem to want to unfold that way, lol. I have been debating for a while whether I should start posting or not, but I figured that I might as well, so I can also push myself to finally tie up and finish the story, too. I have actually worked on this thing little by little for a few months now, but it is one of those stubborn stories that seem to need that extra push to get completed. I am expecting about five chapters or so; please bear with me as I flesh them out. *bow*

Lindir has always had this annoying way of laughing. The minstrel has an open face and a wide smile, his voice a unique sort of tenor that can have a tinkling quality to it when he laughs. 

How unfortunate that it is he who greets Glorfindel as the captain steps into the common hall. 

"Wow, that... that is indeed something," Lindir manages in between gasps. He has been laughing for a while now. "It even looks pretty painful."

"Bad night?" Elrohir asks from beside Lindir. He seems to be Lindir's drinking companion for the evening, but unlike the minstrel, the young peredhel at least displays some modicum of sympathy as he looks up at Glorfindel. "That actually does not look good, my friend." 

"I say either Glorfindel's face hit a rock falling off his horse or it is an affluent lady's wounded pride," quips Lindir again. "Can't get it to look like that with just a plain hand, can you?" 

Glorfindel smiles blandly at them both, and promptly winces as the wound at the corner of his lip is stretched; the growing bruise on his cheek feels sore. "Hurts to smile. Hurts to talk," he says, his speech stilted by the pain. 

"You should get something for that," says Elrohir. "Ada should be at the healing halls. Pay him a visit, if you like."

* * *

The evening began well enough, Glorfindel thinks as he walks along the dim hallways of the Homely House. He had thought to spend a pleasant evening with the Lady Aldawen, whose company Glorfindel has enjoyed for a little over a year now. His time thus far with Aldawen was the kind of slow, easy courtship that Glorfindel tends to favour, and so it was easy enough to invite her for a walk in the gardens. 

So far, so good. Who would have thought that such a night could end with Glorfindel doing something so foolish as to run off at the mouth and offending the lady enough for her to slap him with all of her strength? She had looked so shocked and angry, and Glorfindel also could not believe what had just occured, and so he was not able to stop her when she bolted and ran away. 

He has to shut his eyes now as he berates himself, still unable to believe what he had just done. He should speak with her and apologise come morning. In the meantime, he just wanted to do something about the pain, as a captain of the guard who cannot call out his orders would be a poor captain indeed.

"Hello?" 

The healing halls seem empty when he steps inside. There are a few candles lit, so that even the stars outside the tall windows help in casting light into the room. It is completely silent, however, and Glorfindel is beginning to wonder if somebody only forgot to blow out the candles, when a voice speaks out from behind the partitions.

"Yes, can I help you?" 

Glorfindel recognises the voice immediately. His head snaps up to where the voice came from, where he then found a familiar head of black hair peeking out from behind the white cloths.

"Glorfindel," says Erestor in that even voice of his. It is not unusual to see Elrond's chief counsellor in the healing halls, but neither is it his usual territory. Elrond must be out, concludes Glorfindel. Erestor seems to look at Glorfindel for a moment, his eyes immediately finding the cut and bruise on Glorfindel's lip and cheek. "What happened to you?" 

"Ah," Glorfindel begins uneasily. "An unfortunate encounter, I'm afraid. May I have something for it to help it heal quickly? 'Tis painful to open my mouth."

"Of course. Please take a seat." Erestor gestures to one of the beds while he himself moves swiftly to one of the shelves lining the walls. 

Glorfindel obeys and selects the bed nearest to where Erestor is standing. He watches the counsellor rummage through the odd bottles and jars, sliding them aside likely in search of a balm that can be applied to the wound. He knows his way around the place even though he is not a healer himself, for he stands in occasionally enough for Elrond when there is a pressing matter at hand, requiring the lord's attention. 

"I am here for Elrond's shift, yes," Erestor suddenly says. Glorfindel blinks at that, but then realises that Erestor must have guessed what was on his mind. He has always been rather good at that. "I had a request for him, so I offered to watch the place in the meantime." 

Erestor approaches Glorfindel, a flat tin and some type of kit on one hand as he grabs a nearby stool with the other. He places the stool in front of Glorfindel and sits himself upon it, his eyes trained on the cut on the captain's face even as he moves his seat a bit closer. 

"Not that it is any of my business," he says as he twists open the tin, "but did someone punch you?"

"Slapped me, actually," says Glorfindel, thinking it just as well that he answers the ever curious counsellor. "It is just that she had rings on at the time, which she is rather fond of wearing, unfortunately." 

Erestor pulls back, his eyes wide. "Aldawen did this? Why on earth would she slap you?" He looks at Glorfindel's injury again. "This looks pretty bad, too, considering that it is just that. She must have been livid."

"I think she did not mean to do this - the extent of the injury, that is. I am quite sure she did mean to slap me." Glorfindel closes his eyes and rubs the good side of his face with one hand. "Aiya, please do not ask any more. It is embarrassing to even think about it again."

"I am sure to hear it by morning tomorrow anyway."

This, of course, earns Erestor a heavy sigh from his companion. "We were walking," says Glorfindel, dreading the thought that Erestor would hear it from anyone else. "An evening stroll, if you may. Things were... rather good, shall I say, but then I may have..." He trails off there, his cheeks uncomfortably warm.

"May have what?" 

Glorfindel averts his eyes and begins playing with the edge of the sheet upon the bed. "I may have... called her by the wrong name." 

Silence greets this piece of news, which Glorfindel supposes is to be expected. He glances up at Erestor and sees him once again with a look of shock on his fair face. 

"You-- that is awful."

Glorfindel winces. "Yes."

"That is _awful_." 

Despite his words and the look of horror in his eyes, Erestor also looks about ready to laugh. The chief counsellor made a valiant effort of it for a good moment or two, but eventually seems to lose the battle. He does have the decency to bow his head to hide his mirth, but the way his shoulders are shaking is telling. 

Glorfindel sighs. "Really. Go on and let it out lest you twist something doing that." 

As though on cue, Erestor bursts out laughing, even clutching Glorfindel's forearm to steady himself on his seat. "Glorfindel!" he admonishes in between bouts of laughter. "Is that not the one thing you must never do with a lover? The poor thing, she must have been so horrified." 

"As was I!" exclaims Glorfindel, shutting his eyes against the embarrassing memory. "I even saw it coming, her hitting me, and maybe I stayed put thinking I deserved it." 

"Perhaps you even did. By the Valar, what is the matter with you?" Erestor shakes his head, but a grin lingers on his lips. "I have heard of such mistakes happening, but I never thought you would be one of those who would be so foolish as to commit them." 

Glorfindel means to say something, perhaps defend himself further, but Erestor chooses that moment to lean over, and the words immediately leave Glorfindel's mind. Erestor tilts Glorfindel's chin up to have his face better catch the light, and Glorfindel finds himself immediately going still and quiet, his mind going blank save for the thought of how closely Erestor now sits with him.

Much as he tried to keep it out of his mind when they began, Glorfindel is now far too conscious of Erestor's presence. He had not expected the other to even be here, and given the events of the evening, Glorfindel is certain that an encounter with Erestor is the last thing he needs. He finds these moments of them alone a strange thing still, and he sits feeling uneasy. Erestor, though, seems fine with it, as he always tends to be. 

Glorfindel breathes in deeply, but subtly; the familiar scent of Erestor's hair expectedly fill his senses. He fights to keep still. 

"I wonder what I would have done had you done that to me," Erestor suddenly says in a low voice as he applies the balm on the cut on Glorfindel's lip. His touch is light and there is little pain - only a slight sting - and the balm is cool against Glorfindel's skin. Erestor smirks distractedly, as though entertained by a thought. "They likely would be singing your dirge instead of you being here at the healing halls." 

Glorfindel's smile is rueful and lopsided - somehow due to the wound, and perhaps maybe something else. "Most likely," he manages to say.

Manwë must be laughing somewhere with his wife, listening to all this. It is a good thing Glorfindel has an excuse not to speak more, Erestor seemingly content with the recognition of his passing joke, for Glorfindel's mind is active, sorting through the many things he could have said in response to Erestor. Not the least is how impossible it would have been for him to commit the same mistake with Erestor at all, not when it is precisely his name that Glorfindel ended up saying by mistake even though he was in the company of somebody else.

* * *

His relationship with Erestor is... rather difficult to define. They are colleagues first and foremost. Friends is another way to describe them, but the word sits awkwardly in Glorfindel's mind, as most correct but inaccurate words to describe things tend to be. 

They were lovers shortly after Imladris was built. Then... things did not work out, and so they were not-lovers a few decades after that. They became lovers again after some time, and ended things again a few years before the march of the Last Alliance. They were lovers at Elrond and Celebrián's wedding, when the twins were born, even also at Arwen's birth, but things turned sour again a little later, and they parted ways again.

It is not a lack of love, at least from Glorfindel's end, that fails them. Even now he looks at Erestor fondly, and no one else has ever been as high up in his favour as the chief counsellor. It was also never easy for Glorfindel every time they parted ways, for each time they did, Glorfindel wondered if it would be the last. He tends to believe Erestor when the other claims that things are not good, that it had been foolish to reconsider being together in the first place, and so even though it was the same conversation time and time again, each time was just as painful as the last.

Glorfindel can no longer even remember the reason for their last fight, but he remembers the words uttered, the look of frustrated rage on Erestor's face - never has Glorfindel seen Erestor angrier than he became in those fights - and he remembers the feeling of exhaustion that came after. Fighting at nearly every encounter could truly drain a person, and they were always like that by the end. 

A great difference in opinions and character, he supposes, are what might be causing such difficulties. They respected one another well enough, but neither is one who would back down in an argument, and too long have they been lords and Elves of status to ever be easily daunted by big words and strong personalities, which both of them definitely were when at an emotional high.

It has been more than a few centuries this time around, the longest it has been for them. It has been long enough for them to seek the company of others aside from one another. None stay too long for either of them, but they attempt it all the same, although Erestor is in between companions at the moment, and has not had one in a little over a century now. Anyway, it looks like Glorfindel is on his way to that himself.

Needless to say, that night was the end of things with Aldawen. To be fair to her, she looked slightly contrite about the extent of Glorfindel's injury, which is really nothing for a warrior, but then perhaps drawing blood is too much for most Elves. But while she apologised for lashing out in anger, she stood by her opinion that she was justified in slapping Glorfindel for her heartbreak and wounded pride.

"It is unfair, my lord, to seek the company of others when it is clear you still hold much affection for the Counsellor. In the first place, you should not have approached me at all."

Glorfindel found he could not argue with her on that. He even wonders if this is his sign somehow that he should just go back to Erestor and convince him to try things out again. 

He dismisses the idea as soon as it passes. Even now, the few memories from last time pain him still. Erestor is a good friend, a valuable ally, but as an opponent he cuts deep, and the damage he causes can linger through centuries, as they did the most this time around. The fight was bad enough that they did not speak of it again. Their bitterness stewed and cooled as time passed, the reason for the fight grew to seem petty and unimportant, until slowly and tentatively they spoke to one another again. But some of the old pain remained, and by that time, years have already passed, so that though they spoke, both knew they were lovers no more.

* * *

Though he had not meant to, and despite his resolve not to do anything, Glorfindel ended up thinking about Erestor more often than he should. It probably should not have been so bad had Aldawen not insisted that Glorfindel was "obviously" enamoured with the other still. 

Enamoured. How completely trite. 

"Glorfindel, you should stay." 

Lost in thought as he had been, Glorfindel is taken by surprise at the call of his name. He turns and looks up at Elrond, who has stood from his seat after having dismissed this morning's council. 

"Did you need something from me?" Glorfindel asks the Half-Elf.

Elrond suddenly looks at Erestor, who apparently also remained though the other council members have left. Glorfindel watches them curiously, as it is as though the two share an unspoken conversation, by the end of which, Erestor is sighing, looking resigned. He turns to Glorfindel, and he is the one who speaks. 

"A word with you, Captain," says the chief counsellor, who looks again at his own lord before setting his gaze back to Glorfindel. 

"Of course." Glorfindel frowns as Elrond leaves the room, closing the door behind himself. Glorfindel turns confused eyes to Erestor. "What is going on?" 

"First of all, I would apologise for taking up your time for something like this; it is of a personal nature, but Elrond seems to believe that I ought to tell you. This shall not take long, but you could remain seated if you wish." 

"All right," says Glorfindel, though he still does not know what this is all about. The look on Erestor's face is rather serious, however, and so he braces himself, for whatever it is. "I am listening." 

Erestor averts his eyes and begins playing with the edge of his quill - a nervous gesture that Glorfindel quickly recognises. Erestor does not speak for some time, but his lips are pursed in a thin line, which tells Glorfindel that the other is carefully considering his words. 

"I am to be engaged soon." When in doubt, Erestor just tends to cut straight to the quick, and now seems like no exception. "I forwarded a request to Elrond for him to arrange something for me, and I expect to hear news about it in the coming days." 

Glorfindel is glad that he is seated, for the shock of this piece of news would have buckled his knees. He stares at Erestor wide-eyed, doubting if he had heard correctly. "You are to be wed?" he asks, because the thought just sounds ridiculous in his mind. 

Erestor, however, only nods. "Yes."

"Why, all of a sudden?" 

Again, averting his eyes, Erestor answers, "I just... feel as though I wish to settle down, find something stable and constant to last me through the years. I am tiring of these changes, but it seems a life alone holds little appeal to me."

Glorfindel shakes his head in disbelief. "But then, for it to be arranged... do you not wish to be the one to decide with whom you shall spend your life?" 

"I trust Elrond, much more than I do myself these days." Erestor's voice and face harden as he says this. "I seem to be doing something wrong, for none of my previous choices have worked out. I grow weary of being wrong with people, and so just hope for the opinion of someone impartial, who would help me find someone who wishes for the same things I do." He sighs, eyes straying now to meet Glorfindel's across the council table. "What about you, my lord? Have you not thought about settling down?"

Of course Glorfindel had thought about it, once or twice in his life, each time even with the same Elf. But this Elf now sits across from him, calmly delivering his announcement as though it is not the worst thing Glorfindel has heard in a long time. He cannot imagine it, having someone else choose for him. Or perhaps it is just because he has some idea of what his choice would have been, and that before this moment, he had not thought that there was ever even a close alternative. 

Finding out, however, that Erestor would rather have a stranger chosen for him than to try again with Glorfindel, makes Glorfindel think that there is no way he can answer Erestor now. 

"No," he lies instead. "I have not thought about it."

He thinks perhaps some of the coldness he feels came across in his voice, for Erestor suddenly looks uneasy and at a loss for words. Glorfindel finds, however, that he can summon little sympathy for him, too busy as he is with the thoughts wreaking havoc in his mind, and the inexplicable sense of betrayal he now feels settling in his heart.


End file.
